


The Sound of the Wind

by liketolaugh



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Mute!Allen, Muteness, Someone stop me the ideas are coming for my soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he turns Mana into an akuma, Allen stops speaking. But nothing is going to stop him from being an exorcist. Nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Baba!” Mother called, and when Baba poked his head in, smiled wanly. “Allen’s awake.”

That took a few moments for Baba to process, but when he did, a wide smile spread across his face, and he darted into the room, half-bouncing in excitement already. “Really? Awake? You mean he’s talking and moving and everything?”

“Moving,” Cross confirmed, a cup of wine swirling in his hand and a deep frown on his face. Baba couldn’t understand why. This was good news! “He hasn’t said anything yet.”

“That’s amazing!” Baba exclaimed, smile bright and hands clasped together. “Can I see him, Mother?”

Mother smiled again, more fond this time. “Go ahead, Baba. Cross and I will be here if anything happens.”

Baba nodded eagerly and ran into the room where Allen always was. Who knew what Allen was like? Cross hadn’t said anything when he’d arrived or in the time since, so Baba would just have to find out for himself.

Sure enough, when he came in, Allen was up and out of bed on shaky legs, looking around the room. He spun around when Baba closed the door behind him, clearly startled, and Baba grinned at him.

This was great! Allen had been in such bad shape when he arrived, with his injured face and unresponsive manner, but look at him now, healed and walking – if Baba could only see him smile, it would be the best thing that happened all month.

Allen was still staring at him with wide eyes, so Baba crouched down in front of him and held out a hand for Allen to shake.

“Heya, Allen,” he greeted happily. “I’m Baba! I live here with Mother. You’ve been staying around here for a while now, but we haven’t gotten to speak yet.”

Allen stared at him for a moment, and then hesitantly reached out and took Baba’s hand, shaking it briefly before he dropped it again.

Then he flashed Baba a soft, shy smile.

“Look at that smile!” Baba crowed, beaming at Allen, who looked startled again. “Best thing I’ve seen all month!”

Allen blinked, and then smiled again a little wider.

“We’ve been real worried about you,” Baba continued, reaching up to ruffle Allen’s hair. “But I’m glad you’re okay now!”

Allen’s smile faded, and his head dropped. He shrugged.

Baba’s smile turned sympathetic. “Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked conversationally. “That’s okay. Mother says I talk enough for ten people anyway!”

Allen giggled softly. Baba grinned.

“Do you want to come out?” he asked Allen, cheered by the boy’s responsiveness. It was a miracle, Baba swore it. A wonderful one. “You’ve met Father Marian already for sure, but have you met Mother?”

Allen shrugged and then shook his head, then glanced at the door expectantly.

Baba bounced to his feet and took Allen’s hand, beaming. “Then let’s go!” he declared, tugging gently. Allen followed, a smile on his face again.

In the other room, Cross and Mother were still at the table, mostly silent and staring at each other. Baba wondered if he’d missed something. Was he supposed to be quiet, too? No, Mother would have told him.

Oh, dear, they’d almost worked through the whole bottle of wine. Baba should get another soon, maybe.

“Mother!” Baba called, tugging Allen forward and presenting him happily. “Allen’s awake!”

Mother already knew that, of course, but Baba was still giddy. Allen half-ducked again, cheeks pink, and Baba grinned. And he was cute, too!

“I see that,” Mother replied mildly, giving him her attention nonetheless. She nodded to Allen. “It’s very good to meet you, Allen.”

Allen smiled back and waved with his free hand.

“I see you’re doing better,” Mother added, studying Allen, frowning for some reason. “But it can’t have been easy. How are you feeling?”

Allen shrugged.

“Aren’t you going to answer her, brat?” Cross asked, half-glowering at the child, a half-scowl on his face.

Allen sort of flinched, and then opened his mouth, visibly hesitated, and then closed it, shrugging and shaking his head.

There was a short moment of silence, and Baba felt some of his giddiness fade into concern.

“Baba,” Mother said at last, quiet and rough. “Get some paper and a pen. If this child doesn’t know how to write already, he’ll have to learn quickly.”

“On it, Mother,” Baba agreed, letting go of Allen’s hand.

Mother knew best, after all.

* * *

When Neah finally got his ass out of his metaphorical bed, Cross was going to beat his ass until he got back in it.

Allen, as it panned out, _did_ know how to write, but just barely. Regardless, within a few weeks, he’d gotten into the habit of carrying a notepad and a pen everywhere, so that he could cover the pages in his sloppy, sloppy handwriting.

Cross, meanwhile, was stuck on the idea of _how the fuck am I going to train a traumatized, mute kid to be an exorcist._

It had been three months since the kid woke up, and they hadn’t left Mother’s yet – Mother wouldn’t let them, for some reason. How irritating.

“You’re being difficult on purpose,” Cross snapped at Allen, apropos of nothing.

Allen frowned at him, then reached for his ever-present notebook and scribbled something out, before ripping the paper out, balling it up, and chucking it at Cross. It hit his face and tumbled onto his lap, and Cross scowled at the brat before picking it up and opening it.

_I don’t need to talk to fight._

…Huh. That was interesting.

First, the kid was apparently more perceptive than originally anticipated. Cross added that to his ever-growing list of grievances to take out on Neah when he woke up.

Second, that had been a very un-Mana thing to do, and Cross had to admit that he very much wanted to know if he could make the kid show more of that in the future, because frankly, he had been _hilarious_ before all this.

And third-

Yeah, that was probably true.

Cross stood up, turned on the brat kid, and crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Then put your money where your mouth is, brat. We’re going training.”

An unreadable look – unnerving, Cross was very good at reading people – crossed behind the brat’s eyes, and then he nodded, hopped off the chair, and smiled at Cross. It was a fake smile, but still a smile.

Cross was going to wipe that smile off his face, he swore it. If anyone needed harsh training, this kid did.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t that Allen had forgotten how to speak, or that he had chosen not to. It wasn’t even that his vocal cords had been damaged; he was sure he would’ve remembered if his throat had been injured.

But the words wouldn’t come. He reached for them, but there was nothing there.

Still, that was okay. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be heard, anyway. Not after what he’d done to Mana.

In a noisy place like this, though, where everyone was talking and Cross was paying him no attention and Allen felt exhausted from a long day of training, sometimes it was so frustrating he wanted to cry.

He closed his eyes and listened to his master talk and talk, boasting about his achievements and ever so often dropping an innuendo. The woman he was flirting with was giggling girlishly and, Allen was sure, blushing, and within a few hours, they’d be in the room, and Allen would have to sleep outside it because there was no way he was going to be able to stay awake long enough for them to finish. Timcanpy, meanwhile, was fluttering somewhere far above, just a glimmer in the darkness.

“You can’t fall asleep here.”

The stern voice made him stir and blink up blearily at the stern-looking owner of the pub. He looked at her for a moment, and her eyes softened even as her mouth remained a thin line. She repeated,

“If you’re so tired, you ought to leave. Where are your parents?”

Allen blinked again, thoughts slow, and then reached into his jacket for his notebook, scribbled out a messy reply, and held it out to the woman, who moved from the beginnings of concern to irritation and shoved the notebook away.

“None of that,” she said sternly. “Leave.”

Allen pushed the notebook at her insistently, feeling the threat of frustrated tears burn his eyes, and she shoved it away again, turning outright impatient. Her hand moved to grab his arm, and he gasped silently, startled, as she pulled him out of the chair he’d occupied.

“Go on,” she snapped, pushing him toward the door, hard enough to make him stumble. “I don’t want any urchins in my pub, understand?”

Allen twisted around to look at Cross, willing him to notice, but the man didn’t so much as glance up from his flirtations; there’d been more than one conflict tonight already, and this was quieter than most. He pulled at his arm, but the woman wouldn’t let go.

Tears, frustrated and exhausted, threatened to spill from his eyes, and he tugged again.

“Stop squirming, you little brat!” the woman ordered, voice rising a little. At the same time, Timcanpy soared down from the rafters and smacked into Cross’ head, successfully drawing his attention.

And finally, _finally,_ Cross cursed, looked up, followed Timcanpy’s pointing tail to Allen, and as soon as he noticed what was going on, stood up quickly enough to knock his stool over. In a couple of strides, he was across the pub, and then he was looming over them, taller, Allen thought distractedly, than anyone had any right to be.

“I know he’s a massive pain in the ass,” Cross said, and there was no mistaking the danger in his voice, “but how about you let fucking go of my apprentice?”

The woman blinked, and, almost numbly, released Allen, who shifted away quickly, resisting the urge to rub his arm gingerly. Timcanpy fluttered over to him and hovering anxiously around his head, and Allen stared, wide-eyed, at Cross.

“Your apprentice?” the woman repeated. “He didn’t say anything, I thought-”

Cross rolled his eyes. “I know what you thought,” he said carelessly. “You were fucking wrong, weren’t you?” He glanced down at Allen. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything, stupid apprentice?”

Allen scowled at him defensively and crossed his arms; Timcanpy settled on his head and wrapped his tail around himself. Cross snapped his fingers.

“Oh, that’s right.” His gaze slid back to the woman, sardonic and unamused. “You’re _mute.”_

The woman paled sharply, and then her mouth opened, and she said, “I-”

And neither Cross nor Allen heard anything she said after that, because Cross was taking him out of the pub himself, leaving the woman behind and the tab… unpaid.

Allen would have been annoyed, but he was still a little numb, and he thought Cross knew it, too.

Bastard.

* * *

“We’re going to have to do something about that,” Cross said, once they’d settled into another inn, quite some ways away.

Allen tried to stay awake and not doze against the wall, keeping his eyes on Cross, who was sitting on his bed, arms crossed and frowning. Tim was on Cross’ shoulder now, half-hidden in his hair.

“It’s no good if you can’t make yourself understood,” Cross continued. “Can’t even get my attention right.” Allen scowled at him. Cross rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Work something out, stupid apprentice. Snap. Hit something. I don’t fucking care. If you need my attention, _actually_ need it, _fucking get it.”_

Allen frowned, let out a frustrated sigh, and let his head fall back against the wall, throat tight and eyes burning. He thought of the things he couldn’t tell Cross because there wasn’t time, or because he couldn’t access his notebook or his pen. He thought of Mother’s house, where none of these problems had come up because they were in one place all the time, everyone knew him, they had a _routine._

When Cross sighed this time, it sounded as exhausted as Allen felt.

“I know,” Cross repeated, frustrated. “Deal with it.” _I’m working on it,_ he didn’t say, and Allen wasn’t sure whether that was because he didn’t want to say it, or because he expected Allen to deal with it himself.

It didn’t matter. Allen _would._

“Goddammit.” Cross scowled, and then stood up (inciting Timcanpy to flee his hair for Allen’s) and started stripping roughly, preparing for bed. Allen shut his eyes and turned his head away and listened. “This wasn’t how this was supposed to fucking go. Shitty, goddamn-” He growled quietly, and Allen heard him plop onto the bed. “What the fuck is wrong with people, fucking hell. Goddamn morons, is what they are. _Fuck._ There isn’t enough alcohol in the world. What am I supposed to do about this, huh? What did you _expect_ me to do about this, you goddamned asshole? Fuck you.”

Cross did this sometimes – talked on and on as if he’d forgotten that Allen could hear him, but Allen knew he hadn’t. At least, he didn’t, normally.

Besides that, Allen thought, sometimes, that Cross was talking to someone who wasn’t even there.

“Go to sleep, stupid apprentice, what are you still doing awake?” Cross said suddenly, startling Allen. “You have training tomorrow, and like hell I’m going easy on you if you’re tired.”

Allen scowled at Cross, and then laid down, took a deep breath to force the tightness of his chest away, and tried to go to sleep while Tim nuzzled against his head.

It took a while, but that was normal for him.


	3. Chapter 3

The second time Allen found himself unable to catch Cross’ attention when he desperately needed it, it was the day after Cross started actively searching for akuma to pit Allen against.

He’d had Allen working on active combat training for a month and a half by that point (as opposed to the general conditioning he’d been doing up until that point), and determined, through mysterious, unknown means, that Allen would be able to go farther faster if he had an enemy to fight. Hence, akuma.

Allen was walking after Cross, frantically (and with no small amount of frustration) trying to keep up despite the crowded area. People tended to part for Cross, the man had that sort of air around him, but a lot of them didn’t even notice Allen. Timcanpy was hitching a ride in his hood, hiding from the same crowd, probably.

They’d just reached the opposite edge when Allen half-turned, and winced, clapping a hand over his scarred eye, as a sharp pain shot through it.

 _That’s odd,_ he thought, slowing slightly, gaze roaming the crowd warily – had they really just come through that? _My scar hasn’t hurt like that in-_

Another bolt of pain shot through his face and he hissed, parting his fingers a little to squint through them, because something, he thought, looked strange about the crowd, about, in fact, the entire world looked a little off… And then Allen froze.

“Grah?” Tim asked, shifting out of the hood onto Allen’s suddenly motionless shoulder.

His left eye, his scarred one, the one Mana had cursed – it seemed to focus, and something slotted into place alongside the world Allen knew, a grayscale world that Allen could see as if in double vision.

And in that grayscale world-

Allen’s throat tightened, and he couldn’t breathe. He took a step back, stumbled as a wave of dizziness hit him, and fell, hitting the ground hard, only to twist to stare at- at-

_God, what is that? It- it looks like-_

_But worse. Like Mana but worse._

His mouth opened, but his throat closed around the words, and Master, he knew without looking, kept walking.

“Grah!” Tim said decisively, and took off in a swirl of gleaming metal. Allen couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight before him, the, the- the-

_Soul._

It had to be a soul. Nothing else made sense.

And, looking at the condition it was in- bandaged like a mummy, bound in chains, its mouth gaping in a silent scream and tears streaming from its eyes, _her_ eyes, Allen saw – Allen turned over, bracing himself on his hands and knees, and heaved, half-digested food spattering against the pavement.

Around him, people kept walking, avoiding him with half-glances of disgust, as if- as if nothing at all was wrong save a boy being gross in the street-

_Oh God, oh no, I can’t- I can’t leave it like that- It- It’s-_

_It’s screaming, but no one can hear it._

A moment after the thought crossed his mind, tears in his eyes and the taste of bile in his mouth, a head turned toward him, and he followed the chains down to a man, a man in a black suit, looking at him.

The man smiled, and Allen stared back, panting for breath.

“Brat? What the fuck happened, Tim came and started fucking tugging at my hair- Fuck, did you finally eat more than your tiny stomach could handle? We don’t have time for this, idiot apprentice.”

Allen couldn’t even look up to Cross, who was finally approaching- He couldn’t break the suited man’s gaze at all.

Cross fell silent suddenly, which was just as well, since Allen wasn’t able to answer one way or another. He felt bile rising in his throat again and retched, darkness eating at the edges of his vision as his head spun. He was breathing too fast, he knew it, but he couldn’t get enough air, and he couldn’t stop staring.

Then the man, the suited man who the suffering soul was chained to, split down the middle, and a monster emerged, the likes of which Allen distantly recognized as something Cross had described to him before but which he had never before seen himself.

The soul’s mouth gaped wider and it struggled against its chains, Cross let out a yell, and Allen felt a feverish warmth crowd into his body right before he passed out entirely.

* * *

When he woke up, he was still in the same place. He pushed himself up with a wince and looked around, wondering, briefly, why the street was empty, why Tim was hovering in front of him so anxiously, why Cross had Judgement out and had whirled to stare at him like an alien-

And then he remembered what he’d seen, and a breathless gasp worked its way out of his lungs.

A moment later, Cross was in front of him, visible eye wild in a way Allen hadn’t seen from him before.

“What did you see?” he demanded, voice rough, with no room for compromise.

Allen stared at him, kneeling on the ground, feeling gross sick pressed to his cheek. As soon as that registered, feverishly, he reached up and rubbed at his cheek with his sleeve, closing his eyes against the tears that pricked at his eyes again, strangled sobs trapping themselves in his chest. Tim moved to tuck himself in the junction between Allen’s neck and shoulder, pressing into him.

The soul, Allen noticed dimly, was gone.

“What did you see?” Cross repeated, louder, loud enough that Allen flinched.

It was enough to put Allen into motion, at least – he stopped scrubbing at his face and scrambled for his notebook, and it was only then that he realized how badly he was shaking. He couldn’t grab the notebook, at first, and when he did, he dropped it and the pen with it, both falling into the puddle of mess.

A desperate sob ripped out of his resistant throat, and Cross’ hand caught his wrist.

“Forget it,” Cross snapped, and stood up, jerking Allen with him. Tim was dislodged and caught himself to flutter behind. “We’re going.”

Allen stared at him, only half-realizing that everything seemed too bright, too loud right now, and half-reached down for the fallen notebook, even knowing it was too far to reach and probably ruined.

“Forget it,” Cross snarled, and Allen stopped and stumbled after him as Cross tugged him along.

Allen wanted to know where they were going. He wanted to know what had happened to the soul. He wanted to know why Cross was so rattled and who the soul had been and when he’d stop seeing it every time he blinked.

But Cross wasn’t even looking at him, Allen couldn’t speak, and his notebook was lying in a puddle of sick, blocks behind them.

Allen tasted salt before he realized he was crying again.


	4. Chapter 4

They finally wound up at a brothel, of course, and Cross barely spared the bouncer four words before he elbowed past, still with a firm grip on Allen’s arm. Timcanpy was weaving between the two of them anxiously, rapid and insistent, but Allen could barely pay him any attention, stumbling after Cross and still half-stunned.

They entered something like a waiting room, and Cross shoved Allen into a chair before storming up to the receptionist and demanding, “I need to speak to Madam D’Amore.”

The woman behind the desk blinked at him, clearly startled. “Sir-” she started, faltering slightly under his glare. “I don’t think-”

“Tell her Cross Marian is here,” Cross snapped out, and pushed away to pace the room irately; Allen could almost see the stormcloud hovering over his head.

Allen, meanwhile, wrapped him arms around himself, still shivering. The tears just kept falling, and he couldn’t do a thing about it, could barely raise a shaky hand to wipe at them furiously. Timcanpy abandoned Cross to settle against him, squirming so that he was lodged between Allen’s arm and body. Allen ignored him.

_That soul… What… What…?_

He barely noticed when a well-dressed woman entered from the back area, and didn’t look up when she started to speak.

“You’re in here uncharacteristically early in the day, Marian.”

Cross grunted in reply, very uncharacteristic of him. “Do you still employ that mute girl?” he asked, bluntly and without preamble.

There was a moment of startled silence. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably cooler. “I didn’t think you were that sort of man.”

“I’m _not,”_ Cross snapped. “Is she still here or am I wasting my time?”

Another pause, and then the woman sighed. “Yes, she is,” she said resignedly. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here now? And I take it that boy is with you?”

“Yeah,” Cross muttered, not sounding all that happy about it.

“Then let’s get him in back,” the woman said firmly. “As he is now, he’s clearly bad for business.”

Cross snorted. “Is that all you’re worried about?”

“But of course. Why else would I worry about a strange little boy covered in vomit and tears?”

“Why else, indeed,” Cross muttered, and then called, “Hey, stupid apprentice, get your ass over here.”

Allen took a deep, hitching breath, trying to steady himself, and then nodded, standing without looking up and shuffling over. When he reached them, he raised his head to give Cross a questioning look, subconsciously cradling Timcanpy against his chest.

“This is Felicia,” Cross informed him, plain and terse. “I’ll call her Madam D’Amore to anyone else though. She’ll put us up while we’re here, and believe me, brat, later tonight, you _are_ going to tell me what the _fuck_ it is you saw earlier.”

Allen flinched, because just the sideways mention of it brought the vision flashing behind his eyes again, but he nodded reluctantly, wanting to know what it had been – and why Cross hadn’t seen it. It was _right there._

When he looked over at Felicia, the woman had quirked her eyebrows at Cross, but seemed to know that no answer was forthcoming, because she just nodded to Allen and turned around, leading the way deeper into the brothel.

At this early hour, it was still closed, so most of the girls were probably out or in their rooms at the moment; Felicia led them all the way back, into her own quarters, if Allen’s past experiences with Cross were any indication.

Finally, she led them through a sitting area and into a bathroom, and Allen cast her a shaky, but grateful smile and went to wash himself off the best he could while Cross and Felicia returned to the sitting area.

When he returned, he’d finally calmed down a little, and his face was thankfully clean, but he’d had to take his coat off and fold it over his arm. Seeing this, Felicia gestured imperiously to somewhere he assumed he could put it, and he did, returning shortly after to sit on the ground by Cross’ chair.

“So,” Felicia said at last, once they were settled. “What is it you want with Eden, Marian?”

“The mute girl?” Cross prompted, and, at Felicia’s nod, continued, “She knows that thing, what did you call it… Sign language. Right?”

Felicia’s gaze sharpened, and Allen didn’t miss her sharp glance at him. “Yes, she does,” she confirmed cautiously.

Allen took a moment to process that, and then sat up, confused. He craned his neck to look at Cross and reached out to tug at Cross’ sleeve (something he rarely dared to do) and, when Cross looked at him expectantly, mouthed ‘Sign language?’

He wasn’t sure if Cross caught it, but he at least guessed, because he snorted, shook his head, and explained, “Eden can talk with her hands; a couple people here know it so they can understand her. I never bothered learning, myself.”

There was a beat, and then Allen’s eyes widened, and he turned his gaze on Felicia, who was nodding to herself, suspicions apparently confirmed.

“I expect you’re regretting not learning it now,” Felicia commented, half dry and half teasing.

“Shut up,” Cross snapped, clearly still bad-tempered from earlier. “Can you teach him? Or her?”

Felicia raised an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed. “It won’t do either of you much good if only he knows it,” she said mildly.

Cross growled a curse under his breath, and Allen turned wide, anxious eyes on him. Cross glanced at him sideways, snarled to himself, and, finally, snapped, “Yes, fine, both of us.” Felicia stared at him. Looking like it pained him, Cross bit out, _“Please.”_

Felicia smiled. “But of course. Anything for an old… _friend,_ and a good general of the Order.”

* * *

Cross and Felicia had sex that night, which, honestly, Allen felt like he should have expected.

It wasn’t as troublesome as usual, though, because Eden, as it turned out, was happy to spend time with him once she’d finished her duties.

She had a stock of paper and a couple of pens that she was willing to share with Allen, and patiently waited for him to write out his response, just as he waited for her to write hers. She didn’t make impatient noises at him or interrupt him with a whole new subject, and she didn’t keep the conversation intentionally short, instead letting it go on and on. Allen was _delighted._

 _What’s the sign for happy?_ he scribbled down, and looked up at her expectantly while she read it; they were sitting a little closer than probably either of them was used to, sharing a clipboard, but Allen certainly didn’t mind, and he hoped Eden didn’t, either.

Eden – a pretty, brown-haired blue-eyed girl who Felicia had introduced him to, just before she had to attend to her ‘duties’ – smiled at him, and then made something like a clapping motion, with her hands at a right angle to each other. Allen imitated the sign and looked at her hopefully, and she nodded. He beamed.

 _Thank you!_ he wrote, and then, experimentally, signed it.

 _You’re welcome,_ she signed back, and then wrote it as well. He beamed again, and she smiled at him briefly before continuing, this time just in writing, _How long have you been mute?_

He started, looked up at her, and then his mouth pulled into a wary grimace. Her expression melted into concern, and he shrugged, looked back down, and scribbled, _Seven months._ Three with Mother and Baba, and then four more just with Cross.

 _Not very long at all,_ she wrote, glancing at him with a solemn expression and he shrugged helplessly. _How are you dealing with it?_

Allen blinked at the words for a moment, and then stared at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, feeling more thrown than he was willing to admit.

How was he dealing with it? As in, _how are you?_ As in, _are you okay?_

Slowly, glancing up at her every few words, he wrote, _Okay, I think. Master is okay, since he doesn’t think I’m stupid, and he’s willing to wait sometimes, if there’s time._

Eden circled the ‘you’ in her previous sentence. Allen swallowed.

But he couldn’t begin to explain the tight feeling in his chest now, or the frustration and self-incrimination that accompanied too much thought about his new disability and the event that caused it, so he just circled ‘okay’, and while Eden’s sigh made him feel guilty, he didn’t elaborate.

 _Thank you,_ he added, signing it, and she gave him a soft, weary smile. Then, writing, _Can you teach me more?_

Eden nodded, and then took the clipboard from him to start writing a list of words down, while he waited patiently, shoving his thoughts of Mana and souls and punishments he’d earned aside.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Master!’ Allen mouthed, despite knowing how pointless it was. He turned around in place, eyes wide and anxious.

He was trapped in a crowd, and while it was very far from the first time he and Master had left the brothel since they arrived, it was the first time they’d been separated.

And Allen was almost certain that Cross had done it on purpose, the _jerk._

‘Master!’ Allen repeated, and signed it as well, this time. He turned around again, gasping silently as he was jostled in the crowd, and then tried to make his way to an edge, where maybe he’d be able to pick Cross out – he was tall, after all, and his hair was a bright enough red.

Cross wouldn’t _leave_ him, would he? He wouldn’t. He’d promised to train Allen – had even gone to the trouble of learning sign language, of learning Allen’s expressions and body language…

But he kept complaining about it. Allen knew he was being troublesome; he always was. But-

Allen’s breathing had picked up, and he was panicking, he knew he was, but he was frightened, damn it, and Cross was a _jerk,_ and Allen _couldn’t find him._

He saw a glint of gold and turned toward it, hoping it was Cross’ coat, but no- It was Tim, flickering in and out of the crowd, heading toward him.

He held his hands out, because Tim was good to him even when Cross was grumpy or weird, and Tim came and hovered in front of him. Allen smiled, relieved.

 _Where’s Master?_ he signed anxiously, fumbling with the signs – Tim seemed to get the message, anyway, and it suddenly occurred to Allen that Tim had always, always been there when Felicia or Eden was teaching him and Cross sign language, even though he often vanished the rest of the time.

Tim said, “Gah!” and then took off, and Allen hurried after him.

Cross emerged from the crowd within a few minutes, his back turned, chatting up – Allen scowled to himself – a blushing lady, with a cigarette between his fingers and a smirk on his stupid face.

Tim soared toward Cross and bit him on the ear, and Cross yelped and dropped his cigarette, startling the woman.

“What the fuck, Tim?” Cross snapped, half-turning toward the golden golem.

And Allen smiled even through his frustration, because he’d found his way to get Cross’ attention.

Cross spotted Allen, then, and rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s you,” he said grumpily. “What the fuck do you want, brat?”

That was all it took for Allen’s brief delight to turn back into irritation and residual anxiety, and he scowled at Cross and signed, slow and clumsy with emotion and inexperience, _You left me alone!_

“What the-” Cross imitated one of the signs, and then rolled his eyes. “Those are fucking worthless if you do them wrong, brat.”

Allen stomped his foot and scowled at Cross, fists clenching. He had his notebook in his pocket, still, since so few people knew sign, but he knew better than to expect Cross to read it when he could be ‘chatting up a lady’.

Even now, even with this-

What was Allen supposed to do if _no one would listen?_

Cross, oblivious to Allen’s thoughts, laughed at him, and Allen fumed, frustrated and upset in equal parts. Even Tim, biting hard on Cross’ ear again, couldn’t make him smile, and Cross rubbed his ear and scowled accusingly at unrepentant Tim.

Allen took a deep breath and signed again, slower and more careful, _You left me alone._

Cross took a moment to recognize them, but managed this time and rolled his eyes. “So what?” he asked bluntly.

Allen stared at him – an anxious, vulnerable look that he just couldn’t keep off, because he still felt a little like crying and a little like hitting something. Cross’ frown visibly faltered, and the woman let out a breathy, worried sound.

“Oh, dear, who is he?”

“My stupid apprentice,” Cross told her absently, still frowning at Allen. “What do you want?”

“Why won’t he speak?” the woman pressed.

“He’s mute. Spit it out, stupid apprentice, what is it?” Cross was scowling now, apparently recovered from Allen’s earlier expression.

Allen took a breath and bit his lip, because he wasn’t sure – he was glad to have found Cross, was glad he wasn’t alone anymore, but…

“I think he wants to go home,” the woman suggested, brow furrowed and concerned, and Allen looked down, squirming in place. (She was probably right.)

“That’s stupid,” Cross complained, and Allen flinched. “Apprentice, go… somewhere else. I’ll find you later, or something.”

Allen gave him a pleading look, giving up on signing entirely – he didn’t know the words for what he wanted to say, let alone the signs.

Cross turned away from him deliberately and gave the woman a flirtatious smile. “Now, weren’t we going somewhere?” he suggested.

The woman was still looking at Allen, hovering indecisively. Then, visibly, she nodded to herself, and said to Cross firmly, “I think you should go.”

Cross scowled uncharitably. “Fine,” he grumbled, and scowled at Allen. “Get over here, stupid apprentice.”

Allen relaxed and smiled at the woman, who smiled back, and then hurried after Cross, relieved.

Cross remained sulkily silent for a few minutes, and they were almost back before he finally glanced down at Allen, looking almost… thoughtful.

Finally, he said, “Not bad, stupid apprentice. Next time, try doing it on purpose.” Then, with a scowl, “But not against me, damn it!”

Allen stared at him for a moment, and then smiled and nodded.

He could try. Probably.

Except for that last bit. Frankly, Cross deserved whatever he got.

* * *

Allen liked staying with Felicia; he liked it almost as much as he had liked staying with Mother. The girls fawned over him whenever they got the chance, which Cross found annoying as all hell, since they kept rejecting his advances with ever-increasing amounts of teasing. Also, though Felicia often teased Cross about demanding payment, she never actually charged him anything, so Allen didn’t have to earn money while they were here (something he hadn’t yet found a good way of doing) and all that was _on top_ of the lessons Felicia and Eden were giving him and Cross.

It was almost enough for him to forget about the silent form of the screaming soul – the akuma soul, according to Cross, who’d looked furious for a reason he’d refused to reveal to Allen.

It was almost enough for him to forget about the soul, but not enough for him to forget what he’d promised. No matter how much he liked this – just as he couldn’t stay with Mother, he couldn’t stay here, either. He needed to move forward.

It was after a month there that Allen mentioned this to Cross. It was the middle of the night, and most of the girls were occupied, which meant he and Cross were alone – the only time Allen could really expect Cross to listen to him. Allen ignored the sounds that had become disturbingly commonplace in his life and signed to Cross, slow and cautious, _Are we going to leave soon?_

Cross scowled at him, as he usually did when Allen signed at him, and slowly imitated the signs one by one, before he nodded to himself and answered, “Probably. You’re starting to get the hang of it, and once communication stops being such a goddamn _annoying_ issue, we’ve got no reason to stay.” He leered. “Well, _you’ve_ got no reason to stay.”

Allen couldn’t help but notice that he signed as he spoke – he missed about half the words, ones he didn’t know the signs for, probably, but he still did it. Allen almost smiled, and then processed Cross’ last words and made a face at Cross, disgusted.

Cross smirked at him. “Don’t be a baby,” he said carelessly.

Allen held his expression for a moment, and then sighed, dropping his gaze to the ground.

He hadn’t ever thought that staying in one place for so long would make him _restless,_ but there it was. With a promise to keep, even the lure of affection wasn’t quite enough.

When he looked back up at Cross, the man was frowning at him, in that way he did sometimes, unreadable but unnerving. Allen gave him an uncomfortable look back, and Cross looked away, at nothing in particular.

“What are you even doing right now, brat? Go get me a drink. Felicia keeps something around here, I’m damn sure of it.”

He was still signing as he spoke.


	6. Chapter 6

A month and a half after they arrived at Felicia’s, they left again.

It was a cold day. With fall drawing to a close and winter well on its way, the breeze was chilly, and Allen closed his coat a little tighter, giving Eden and Felicia, the two who’d stayed to see them off and the two they’d spent the most time with, a hesitant, regretful look.

“Good luck, to both of you,” Felicia said, expression solemn as she dipped her head in a respectful nod. “Fight hard.”

Allen gave her a small smile and signed carefully, _Be careful. I know._

Felicia smiled at him, and Eden stepped forward, crouched in front of Allen, and signed, _Take care._ And then, _I have something for you._

Allen blinked at her, curious, and she reached into the bag she’d brought with her and pulled out a large, thick book. She held it up for him to see, smiling.

Allen examined it for a moment, and his eyes widened. _Thank you!_ he signed quickly, a smile breaking out across his face.

It was a book of sign language; Allen guessed that it was a holdover from when Eden herself had been learning, and, well- she didn’t need it anymore.

He gave her a bright, hopeful smile, and she smiled warmly in return and held it out. Carefully, he took it, and then tucked it against his chest, shifted it a little, and then signed, _I’ll miss you._

Eden’s smile softened. _Good luck._

“Good, now you can stop worrying about stupid shit,” Cross told Allen, with a slight nod to Eden and hands moving slightly slower than his mouth. “If you’re damn well done here, we’ve wasted enough time.”

Allen wrinkled his nose at Cross and turned to Eden, who had returned to Felicia’s side, and bowed briefly to both of them. Then he straightened, cast them both a bright smile, and signed, _Goodbye._

Before either of them could reply, he spun around and jogged after Cross, who wasn’t waiting for him because he was a _jerk._ He scowled at Cross’ back, and Cross tipped his head back to smirk at him, and then, deliberately, sped up.

 _Stupid Master,_ Allen mouthed at him, scowling irritably.

Timcanpy fluttered in front of Allen and Allen glanced at him thoughtfully, remembering before, and then signed to Tim, _Hit him._

Gleefully, Timcanpy soared forward, slamming into the small of Cross’ back, and Cross grunted, turned around, and scowled right back at Allen.

“Are you coming or aren’t you?” he demanded, signs irate and flourishing, but slowed down nonetheless.

 _Coming,_ Allen signed back with a cheerful smile, and moved to catch up.

And just like that, they left Felicia’s brothel behind.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Allen woke up, realized that he was eleven now, remembered his last Christmas, and curled up to press his face against the pillow, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes, but his sobs were soft and muted, probably inaudible through the pillow.

“Huh?” Allen heard Cross stirring. “What? Brat, what the f-”

He fell silent.

Allen ignored him altogether, feeling the weight of Timcanpy settle on his shoulder, and stayed stubbornly in place, breathing stale air through the cloth.

He should get up. He had training to do. A book full of sign language to learn. Stupid Master was probably going to make him go earn money. He hadn’t yet figured out how much debt Cross had previously accrued in this town.

None of it seemed good enough reason at the moment.

This time last year, Mana had woken him up by dancing and yelling, happier about Christmas and about Allen’s birthday than Allen himself had been. Allen had yelled at him and hidden under his pillow because he’d wanted to sleep more, but Mana had dragged him up and away to get breakfast together, chattering about carols and candles and a _very special_ present, just for Allen.

Last year, he’d never heard of akuma or the Earl, Mana had been alive, and Allen had spent the morning talking to him.

“Hey.”

Cross’ sudden address made Allen turn his head to peek up reluctantly, knowing that Cross would give him hell if he didn’t respond. Cross was frowning at him, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, and, after a moment, the man continued, hands moving swift and brisk,

“I’ll be busy as fuck today, don’t bother me. If I come back and you’re not here, I’ll hunt you down, understand.”

Allen nodded.

Cross nodded, too, sharp and impatient. “Good. Don’t fall over and die while I’m gone, brat.”

Allen decided not to dignify that with a response and turned his head back into a pillow, feeling tears smear across his face, listening to the sounds of Cross getting dressed and ready. A few minutes later, the door opened and then closed, and Allen was alone.

He stayed in place for a while, though for how long, he didn’t know. Eventually, though, Timcanpy nipped at his shoulder; while the golem probably thought he was being gentle, Allen winced and batted weakly at him in protest, shaking his head once. Tim bit him again, harder, and Allen grimaced and sat up, rubbing at his shoulder and giving Tim a baleful look.

Tim managed to stare him down without any eyes, and finally, Allen sighed, nodded, and stood up. Tim nudged him toward his suitcase of limited belongings, and Allen obligingly went to rummage through it for some clothing that he quickly changed into.

Once he’d done that, Allen hesitated. Cross had heavily implied that he didn’t want Allen to leave the room, which was odd, though most likely a good thing, since Allen didn’t really want to. It did leave him with the brief question of what to do, though.

Tim disappeared briefly out of sight, and then returned slightly larger, with the book of signs clamps in his jaws. Allen blinked, and then smiled faintly and held out his hands. Tim dropped the book into them and then flew up to settle on Allen’s head.

Carefully, Allen moved over to the single chair in the room, sat down, and opened the book, eyes scanning the pages, making the signs and mouthing the words simultaneously.

Last Christmas, Mana and he had spent the day in a bustle of noise and activity, talking over it all.

This Christmas, he and Tim sat together in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

_I told you the police were going to raid that drug den!_

“Brat, if you say ‘I told you so’ one more fucking time, I’m going to tie your hands behind your back. Let’s see you bitch at me then.”

Allen scowled at Cross, and the man smoothly transitioned from sign language to flipping the boy off.

“How did you even know that?” Cross tacked on, frowning at him. “I thought you were making shit up to get out of there.”

Allen gave him a sulky look, and then signed, _I overheard one saying so._ Then, more irritably, _When you left me-_

Cross grabbed his hands, stilling them, and Allen gave him another scowl.

“They said that in _front_ of you?” Cross asked dubiously, letting go when he judged that Allen’s window of complaint had passed. “Aren’t there, I don’t know, _rules_ about that?”

Allen shrugged, irate expression falling into something a little calmer. _I think they forgot I was there._

Cross nodded, continued walking for a few moments, and then, almost comically, froze, and then whirled on Allen, who was- smiling at the ground, a soft light of satisfied mischief in his eyes.

“That happens a lot, doesn’t it,” Cross said more than asked, voice deadpan.

Allen gave him a cheery smile.

“For fuck’s sake, brat,” Cross muttered, shaking his head and moving on. “Whatever, I don’t give a shit, as long as you put your evil eavesdropping ways to good use and keep them well away from me.”

Allen rolled his eyes at his master’s back, and Timcanpy took it as a signal to go bite Cross on the ear. Cross yelled and swatted at Tim, who fled back to the relative safety of Allen’s head.

“And Tim’s teeth, damn it! Tim, you’re my golem, not his!”

Allen hid a smile, and Cross scowled at him again. Tim made a happy ‘grah’ sound.

“I can’t believe you turned my golem traitor,” Cross complained. Allen considered pointing out that Cross was bitching a lot more than Allen ever did, but dismissed the thought because Cross would probably hit him for the comment.

 _He’s my speaking-voice golem,_ he informed Cross instead, a laugh etched into his smile.

“He’s almost as mute as you are!”

_He gets your attention, doesn’t he?_

“With his damned _teeth!_ Do you know how sharp those are?”

_Yep!_

“You’re just _asking_ for more laps tomorrow, brat!”

Still laughing silently, Allen shut up.

(He got extra laps anyway. Stupid Master.)

* * *

Previously to meeting Allen, Cross had been absolutely certain that words were hands-down the most important thing about manipulating a person into doing your bidding, without them being any the wiser.

Watching Allen at work, Cross was much less certain of this.

Sure, Allen had to be more careful than Cross did. He needed a pretty specific type of target, and after that he had to be delicate about how he treated them.

But he still fucking _did it._

Around the corner, the woman was crouched slightly in front of Allen, all of her attention on him, which, as far as Cross could tell, was the hardest part of the whole shebang. As Cross watched, Allen hesitantly pulled a tattered notebook out of his jacket and scribbled something down, in a handwriting Cross knew would be slightly messier than Allen’s usual, and then held it up for the woman to read, his eyes wide and _just_ sad enough to pull at heartstrings without being unsettling.

And, of fucking course, the woman practically melted.

“Oh, you poor boy,” she cooed, _oozing_ sympathy. Impressive. Also sickening. “It must be so hard!”

Allen’s eyes widened dramatically and he tucked the notebook against his chest, shaking his head in rapid denial, and then gave the woman a brave smile.

The woman smiled back, kind and fond. “Where’s your uncle, sweetheart?” she asked, voice slipping into a gentle lilt. “Is he nearby?”

Allen’s expression took on a puzzled cast, and he tilted his head quizzically before bobbing it, then scribbled something down and showed it to her again. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and then she smiled at him again.

“I’d like to speak with him, that’s all,” she explained.

Cross took that as his cue, striding out of the alley he’d been lurking in as if he hadn’t been listening at all. Timcanpy sat on his shoulder, acting as inanimate as he ever did, which still wasn’t very.

“Allen,” he called, continuing to sign as he spoke – it helped with the whole ‘caring uncle’ image that tended to gain them more points with Allen’s typical targets. “Everything alright?”

Allen beamed at him, which was actually a little disturbing, and bounced over, signing with exaggerated enthusiasm. _We’ve got a place to stay!_

Smug little shit.

“Good,” he said with a nod, and then glanced at the woman and smirked, allowing in an edge of flirtation. “And you are?”

Twenty minutes later, they were in. Heh.

“You know,” Cross mused, reclining on the bed with his arms behind his head. “You haven’t done a half-bad job adapting.”

Allen glanced over at him, and Cross was almost startled by how thoughtful the look in his eyes was. Then he smiled, more genuine than any of those he’d granted the woman earlier, but far more melancholy and still tinged with self-recrimination. Cross scowled.

“None of it’s gonna do you a lick of good in a fight,” he tacked on, sniping because they’d gotten way too damn close to actual emotion there. _Praise,_ what the fuck. “So you’d better get a hell of a lot better than you are; watching you makes me want to rip my eyes out, you’re so slow.”

Allen laughed silently, and Tim abandoned Cross in favor of flying up Allen’s shirt and making him squirm. Cross smirked.

Served him right, stealing Cross’ golem like he had.

Allen struggled with Tim for a moment, then resorted to pulling him out by the tail and placing him on his head, where the golem seemed to content to stay, for now. Hands now free, Allen signed to Cross,

_I will. You’ll see._

“I’d better,” Cross said tartly, leaning back. “You’re pathetic.”

Allen rolled his eyes. _At least I don’t fall over drunk every week._

“No, you fall over sober!”

_I do not!_

“You trip over your own feet!”

_You trip over air! When you’re drunk!_

“Prove it, brat!”

Allen scowled at him, but Tim distracted him by biting his ear lightly, and silence fell briefly between the pair of them while Allen silently scolded the golem, smiling anyway. After a few minutes, Tim smacked into Cross, and he scowled and looked over at Allen, who looked serious again.

 _I am going to be the best exorcist I can be,_ Allen signed to Cross, careful and deliberate. _I have to be. No matter what._

Cross stared at him for a long moment, and then exhaled heavily and looked away. Allen didn’t push it, seemingly satisfied that he’d said his piece.

No matter what, huh?

It was a good thing to try for. Pity it was doomed from the start.

Cross might’ve liked to see what the kid could do.


	8. Chapter 8

“Komui,” the man snarled at last, his sword still a scant _inch_ in front of Allen’s face. “Akuma _don’t know sign.”_

Allen froze, startled, in the middle of another instinctive ‘please’.

The decision – well, actually, ‘decision’ implied he’d had a choice, but still – to come to the Order had come with the implication that things were about to become much harder. Cross refused to come, and hardly anyone knew sign, so he’d expected communication to become as difficult as it had been during the first few months with Cross, and maybe worse. But it had been worth it, to further his ambitions as an exorcist.

He’d been here _five minutes,_ and he’d been threatened with a sword and had his sign recognized. Clearly expectations had nothing to do with it.

Allen took a deep, steadying breath, eyes crossed to fix on the tip of the man’s sword. Then, shaky and hesitant and wincing at the biting pain in his left hand, he signed, _C-r-o-s-s should have sent a letter of recommendation._

The man stared at him unreadably for a long moment, and then said flatly, “A letter from the general.” Briefly, his eyes flicked to Tim, who was sitting very still and innocent on Allen’s head.

 _To someone named K-o-m-u-i,_ Allen added helpfully, eyes wide and breathing maybe a little too fast.

The man’s expression became, if anything, much darker and more ominous; apparently that meant nothing good. Oh, no.

After a pause that was far, far too long, another voice came through the golem. _“Kanda, cease your attack! You are granted permission to enter the castle, Allen Walker.”_

 _Well,_ Allen tried to think optimistically. _That’s the first obstacle overcome._

A handful of minutes later, they were inside and Allen had met another, slightly less scary exorcist, who introduced herself as Lenalee, accompanied by a hand sign Allen interpreted as L-fly, which made two people who could sign here.

Allen was _delighted._ Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard, after all.

 _Pleased to meet you,_ Allen signed to Lenalee, who smiled at him, friendly and patient.

Satisfied, Allen turned to Kanda, who was starting to walk away, and took a step forward to reach out and touch Kanda lightly on the shoulder, catching his attention. There were very few people Allen could easily communicate with, after all, and he’d hate to give one up without a fight.

Kanda whipped around to scowl at him fearsomely, and Allen winced – he hadn’t expected Kanda to appreciate being touched, but there were a limited number of ways to get his attention. The other primary one involved having Tim hit him, for one.

 _Your name is K-a-n-d-a, right? Nice to meet you._ He held out his hand when he finished, expectant.

Kanda glowered at him. “I don’t shake hands with cursed people.”

…Harsh.

Tim ‘gah’ed at Kanda disapprovingly.

Kanda started walking away again, and this time, Allen made no move to stop him, instead turning back to Lenalee, who looked to be almost ready to laugh, if only from embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Lenalee apologized. “He’s irritable because he just returned from a mission.” She started walking again, Allen tagging after her, and glanced over as she continued, “You’re mute, aren’t you? Not deaf – you seemed to hear us through the golem fine.”

Allen nodded, feeling Tim settle on his head again. Lenalee hummed in acknowledgement, thoughtful.

“Kanda and I are the only ones who know sign language here, I’m afraid,” she said, half-apologetically. “General Tiedoll does, too, but he’s not around very often.”

Allen smiled at her; though he was a little disappointed, he’d really expected nothing less. _That’s okay. That’s what the notebook is for._ He tried not to puzzle the question of why an apparent ass like Kanda would take the time to learn something as unusual as sign language.

She laughed. “I guess so, huh?” She considered for a moment, and then continued, reassuring, “Brother’s always very careful about making accommodations, so make sure to ask for something if you need it.” Her eyes flashed a little, and she laced her hands behind her back. “The Order can afford it.”

Allen nodded thoughtfully. _Is there anyone I might have trouble working with?_

Lenalee’s smile turned a little rueful. “Marie, probably – he’s very nice, but he’s also blind, so he wouldn’t be able to see your signs or read anything you wrote. You’ll meet him sooner or later, but you probably won’t be put on any missions alone with him.”

Allen nodded; that made sense. _And anyone else?_ he asked, a little gingerly.

She hesitated again. “Not really,” she said at last, shaking her head a little. “Everyone comes here with their own set of problems. Most of us try to be understanding, and the rest usually just want to get the job done and go home.” She cast him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, no one will really mind. Now, this is the dining hall-”

And that, apparently, was that.

* * *

Thoughtfully, Komui tapped his pen on his clipboard, watching the newest exorcist over the top of it.

Allen was currently being measured for a new uniform by Johnny, who was chattering away to the boy while Allen smiled patiently, making adjustments as Johnny requested them, with Cross’ old golden golem seated, apparently content, on his head.

A new exorcist was always a good thing – a sad thing, but in the darker, pragmatic parts of Komui’s mind, a breathtaking relief for the understaffed Order. At the same time, Komui’s mind was already parsing the different challenges Allen in particular would face, wondering what the Science Department could perhaps work to mitigate.

Curses were rare, and Komui had no idea if they could be worked around. Allen seemed to have full control over his left arm, he needed no help there. Possibly his muteness, which would present its own set of challenges both on and off the field, could be fixed surgically. It was worth looking into, at the very least – where the exorcists were concerned, no amount of money, effort, or time was a waste.

If not- Well, Komui didn’t have a lot of spare time, not really. None at all, in fact. But perhaps a few of his precious rabbit sketches could be exchanged for some reading material. He had an obligation to his people, the exorcists most of all.

As he made that decision – surely there was at least _one_ book on sign language in the Order’s vast library – Johnny released Allen with a bright smile and a promise to have his uniform ready soon, and Allen smiled back and bowed slightly, making a quick sign down from his chin. The golem took off and started weaving around his head, looking around.

“Thank you, Johnny,” Komui called to the scientist, and then, to Allen, “May I speak to you in my office, please, Allen?”

Allen tilted his head at him, looking curious, but dipped his head in acceptance quickly enough, and with a wave to Johnny, followed Komui out, the golem trailing behind. Komui waited until they were in his office, where Allen could easily write his responses, before opening the conversation.

He met Allen’s eyes and asked, “Did Lenalee mention Marie to you at all?”

Allen nodded and Komui almost smiled. Of course – Lenalee was an angel, after all.

“Then you should know that the Order isn’t unaccustomed to exorcists with disabilities. Marie is perfectly well respected and received, and I assure you that you will be, too.” Komui interlaced his fingers, examining Allen intently. “If you need any accommodations made, you need only ask.”

Allen gave him a pleased smile and made the same sign to Komui as he had to Johnny – _thank you,_ Komui surmised, and really did smile this time.

“Related to that-” Allen tilted his head. “Would you be willing to let some of the Science Department examine your throat? We may be able to locate the problem, and perhaps even fix it.” Komui loathed giving false hope, but-

Allen’s eyes widened in obvious surprise, but then he smiled, a wry twist that made Komui wary even before the boy dropped his gaze to the retrieved notebook and started writing. After a few moments of silence, he turned it around and pushed it toward Komui. Komui looked down.

_There’s nothing wrong with my throat. It’s psychological. I’m sorry, there’s really nothing anyone can do._

Psychological. Considering… Well. Komui really should have considered the possibility.

He cleared his throat and pushed the notebook back and did not wonder what had happened, because that never ended well.

“Well,” Komui said after a moment, “that certainly doesn’t change anything I said.” With some effort, he smiled. “You’re quite welcome here, Allen. Is there a request you’d like to make before I release you?”

Allen examined him for a moment, silver eyes clear and curious, and then smiled and shook his head. He dropped his gaze back to the notebook, and paused to write.

_No, thank you. Tim and I can manage on our own, I promise._

Komui’s fingers lingered on the page for a moment, bracing it out of habit more than need, before he pushed it back, lifting his gaze to meet Allen’s.

“I’m sure you can, Allen.”


	9. Chapter 9

Jerry glanced up from the hastily scribbled list and gave Allen a somewhat skeptical look. “You’re really going to eat this much?”

Allen gave him a bashful smile and nodded his head – a gesture copied by Tim, who bobbed in the air beside him. A rueful smile formed on Jerry’s face, but before he could say anything, a commotion drew Allen’s attention away.

“What did you just say? Say what you just said!”

“Hey! Stop it, Bazu!”

As the argument progressed, a small frown formed on Allen’s face, and then a faint scowl. He dearly wanted to get involved – no one had the right to be _that_ much of an asshole – but he wasn’t sure how much he could do, or how good an idea it would be this early on. Beside him, Jerry tutted concernedly, but made no move to do interfere one way or another, and Tim flitted up his sleeve to disappear somewhere into his shirt.

Eventually, though, Kanda made the decision for him when he took Bazu by the neck, lifted, and squeezed. It didn’t matter how much he could do, he had to do _something._

In a few quick strides, Allen crossed the room, and then reached out and grabbed Kanda’s wrist firmly, dragging down his arm enough to take some of the strain off Bazu. Then he turned his head and gave Kanda an irritated glower.

Kanda scowled right back. “Get off me, beansprout.”

Allen’s eyebrow twitched – _beansprout? –_ and he narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip in warning. The full strength of his grip could crush stones; Kanda would have to let go eventually.

For a few moments, the two of them stayed like that, glaring at each other in a silent contest of wills as the people around them stared apprehensively. Frustration started to creep into Allen’s expression, battling with budding uncertainty. But he refused to give in first. He refused to be _ignored._

Finally, Kanda ‘che’d and let go, allowing Bazu to stumble back, and Allen nearly smiled as he released Kanda’s wrist in turn. Then Kanda rounded on him with a ferocious snarl.

“What the _fuck_ is your _problem?”_ Kanda hissed at him, eyes narrow with irritation.

Allen smiled tersely and, without breaking eye contact, signed, _That wasn’t very nice._

Derision rose on Kanda’s face. “Wasn’t very nice,” he repeated flatly, and then, “Get used to it, _beansprout.”_

 _My name is A-l-l-e-n,_ Allen signed with false patience, carefully exaggerating each letter of the name.

“Whatever,” Kanda snorted, crossing his arms. “You won’t live long enough for that to be worth remembering.”

A mixture of irritation and defensiveness flared under Allen’s skin, and he replied sharply, _I will._

Kanda’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Allen glowered at him. After a long moment, Kanda scoffed. “I doubt it. Guys like you never last long.”

 _Guys like me,_ Allen repeated to himself, and felt his irritation rise. He scowled at Kanda, considering a response, but after a moment, huffed and turned away, feeling Tim pop out of the bottom hem of his shirt.

Timcanpy fluttered to land on his head, and he grimaced, forcing himself to relax.

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to work with this asshole.

* * *

He had to work with the asshole.

He scowled at the briefing in his hands, trying to crush his frustration. Kanda was staring out the window, determinedly ignoring him, while Timcanpy sat on Allen’s head, tail swaying rhythmically in the air.

It only made sense, of course – Komui had said as much when he first briefed them. Kanda was one of the few people he could communicate with easily, so this would help ease him into it.

More or less.

After a while, though, Tim’s tail tapped him on the face, and he sighed, deflating slightly. Tim was right, really. He looked up and considered Kanda, frowning, and then, reluctantly, resigned himself to his fate, reached over, and tapped Kanda on the wrist.

Kanda shrugged him off instantly, flicking his hand, but he did glance over, quirking his eyebrow as if to ask _what do you want?_

Allen smiled apologetically, ignoring the irritation throbbing in his chest, and signed, _What’s the sign for I-n-n-o-c-_

Kanda cut him off, using both hands to make a sign as if he was cupping a small object in both hands, one on top of the other so they interlocked.

Allen’s eyes brightened slightly – it was nice that, no matter their… _disagreements,_ Kanda would at least help with this. _Thank you,_ he signed, and then, _A-k-u-m-a?_

Kanda let out an irritated sigh and made that sign to, and then, without prompting, continued, “Exorcist. Finder. Golem. Black Order.” With each word, he made the sign for it, glowering at Allen in a way that practically dared him to ask for clarification.

Allen carefully imitated each of the signs, and then nodded. _Thank you,_ he repeated. He and Cross had had their own signs for these things, but since Kanda and Lenalee were here and Cross was not, he figured it was in his best interests to learn theirs. Tim took off from his head and fluttered into the air, and Allen took a moment to smile after him, warm and fond.

Kanda shrugged disinterestedly, drawing Allen’s attention back to him, and then asked, “Deaf or mute?”

Slightly surprised, Allen replied, _Mute._

Kanda grunted and looked away, out the window. Not yet satisfied, Allen reached out to tap Kanda’s wrist for attention again, and smiled tersely at his scowl.

_What does the legend have to do with Innocence?_

Kanda’s annoyance and exasperation visibly increased, but he explained anyway, voice flat and impatient. Allen nodded along, listening carefully, hands lingering in the air as if about to sign.

When Kanda finished and Allen was satisfied, Kanda quirked an eyebrow again, fingers tapping impatiently. Allen half-smiled and almost nodded, but there was, he realized, one more question that he had.

 _Why did you learn sign language?_ he asked, skin practically crawling with curiosity, eyes on Kanda’s. Kanda’s eyes immediately went dark, and he scowled at him fiercely and turned his head away, glaring out the window again. He didn’t answer.

With the conversation effectively ended, Allen sighed, held out a hand for Tim, and looked back down at his briefing, flicking through the pages.

He wondered, absently, if Lenalee would tell him.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’ve never seen Master Kanda give someone so much attention willingly before.”

Allen tipped his head up and looked at Toma, who was visibly curious. Pushing the ongoing song to the back of his mind, he reached into his jacket and fingered the edge of his notebook in preparation, and then gave the finder an expectant look.

Unlike Kanda, meant to be bedridden for another five months, Toma had recovered fairly quickly. While he still winced with each movement, he was up and about two days after Guzol’s death.

Looking uncertain and hesitant over his own words, Toma explained, “Most people need to yell to get his attention, especially during battle. But you-” He stopped, but didn’t take his eyes off Allen’s.

Allen blinked, and then smiled, shrugged, and shook his head. Tim took off from there and tugged at Toma’s jacket, and with a half-smile, Allen patted the ground beside him in agreement. After a long moment of hesitation, Toma sat down, a noticeable distance away as if uncomfortable.

For a few moments, Allen wrote.

 _I don’t know why Kanda pays attention. I don’t know why he knows sign language, either._ He hesitated, and then tacked on, _Maybe they’re related._ And then he passed the notebook to Toma, and held out his hand for Tim, who plopped into it to be delivered back to Allen’s head.

A few notes slid into Allen’s attention while Toma read, and he shook his head softly, slumping slightly in place again. He wished Guzol’s final words could have been to Lala as she was. But he knew this would be enough for Guzol. Just enough.

Tim tugged gently on Allen’s hair, and Allen reached up to brush his tail off, distracted. Before he could scold the golem, though, Toma looked back up, handing the notebook back.

“I never knew anything of it before now,” Toma admitted, still cautious; Allen hadn’t failed to notice that he’d handled the journal carefully, not even letting it near the bandage on his left hand, and he hadn’t touched Tim.

Allen just shrugged. Then he looked down and wrote, _Where are you going to go next?_ and held out the notebook to Toma.

Toma took it and glanced down, and without looking away, answered, “I’ll be going back to the Order with you.” He hesitated for a moment, and then, belatedly, passed the book back and met Allen’s eyes. “I’m sorry talking to me will be more troublesome than with Master Kanda.”

Allen started; he didn’t think anyone had ever apologized to _him_ for the time it took to communicate via notebook. After a moment, he smiled and shook his head, waving one hand dismissively and then offhandedly signing, _It’s okay._

For a few more minutes, both of them were silent, and Allen listened to Lala sing again.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Allen returned his gaze to Toma, surprised. Toma was looking at him again.

“You didn’t have to,” Toma continued steadily. “But you did. So thank you, Master Walker.”

Allen thought for a moment, and then reached over, squeezed Toma’s shoulder lightly, and gave him a kind smile and a nod.

He would have done the same for anyone – no one deserved to be attacked for something they weren’t. For someone else’s misconceptions and misunderstandings.

Allen couldn’t see if Toma smiled, but for a split second, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

A moment later, he stood up and gave Allen a short, formal nod. “I’ll leave you to your work, Master Walker.”

Allen’s smile softened, and he bobbed his head gently, adding a playful half-salute as Toma turned away. When the man was gone, he stood up, stretched, and started walking.

He’d check the area for akuma again. He wanted to make sure Lala and Guzol weren’t disturbed.

* * *

The journey back to the Order was quiet – quiet enough that Allen could pass the time listening to the echoes of Lala’s song in his mind. Toma, while more thoughtful and relieved now, as opposed to wary and aloof as he had been before, was still reluctant to talk to Allen, so they passed most of the train ride in silence. Allen palmed the Innocence in his jacket, and the song became a little louder.

Aside from his own and those his master kept, Allen had never encountered an Innocence before. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but- Lala and Guzol had deserved better than what they’d gotten.

Allen had never, in his memory, ever been _angry_ at an akuma before. Not when every akuma he’d ever known had just floated, with that stricken look on masklike faces, as they rained destruction on their surroundings. When the crying soul was the most noticeable part of the weapon.

This akuma, though, had _spoken –_ it had laughed, it had taunted. It had taken glee from the tragedy it wrought.

And for a moment, Allen had forgotten that it wasn’t the akuma’s fault at all.

With a silent sigh, he closed his eyes and made a sign – cupping one hand around the closed fist of the other, not quite touching, and then pressing them together and pulling them to his chest.

 _End,_ it said, and then a little more. A little gesture just for him and the akuma, not really meaning anything, but offering a little closure to each akuma that Allen released.

He hadn’t made it to the akuma after he and Kanda destroyed it – the first time since he’d created it that he’d failed to send off an akuma. Because he’d forgotten. Something else had been more important.

A shiver traveled down his spine, and he shook his head sharply and forced down the urge to apologize to Mana. Lala and Guzol _had_ deserved more – _had_ deserved his attention.

The akuma had been released. He _hadn’t_ failed.

With a short huff, he forced his gaze back to the window.

They’d be back at the Order soon, and soon after that, he’d be sent on another mission with another exorcist, and he would save more akuma.

And next time, he wouldn’t forget.


	11. Chapter 11

Allen registered the wet cloth on his forehead before anything else, but it was enough to jolt him awake, eyes snapping wide open as he sat up quickly.

Above him, someone yelped, retreating just in time to keep their heads from colliding. He blinked, his sleepy brain slow to catch up, and then looked up to meet Lenalee’s surprised eyes.

Lenalee blinked, too, and then she laughed.

“You scared me!” she chided, not looking bothered in the least. Allen gave her an apologetic smile, and she returned it easily and then continued, “Are you alright? You passed out inside Komurin.”

Allen grimaced slightly, but assured her, _I’m fine. I apologize for worrying you._

“It’s fine!” Lenalee reassured him with a careless wave. “I’m sorry about my brother’s invention, though. He’s a little much sometimes.”

And then she laughed, light and fond enough to make Allen smile. Her eyes were warm; he supposed she loved her (insane) brother very much.

He offered her a smile and signed, _At least he keeps you on your toes._ Then, while she suppressed a few more giggles, he looked around. They were in a room piled with books on books, scattered with papers; he didn’t recognize it at all. _Where’s Tim? Is he okay?_

“Gah!”

Timcanpy swooped over from nowhere – Allen guessed behind the couch he was sitting on – and Allen grinned in relief as he nipped Allen’s ear lightly and then settled on his head, tail coiling around him until it trailed to fall off one side of Allen’s head.

“Tim’s fine,” Lenalee assured him, imitating Tim’s name-sign with a thoughtful nod. “I don’t know what General Cross did to him, but the damage had been fixed by the time Brother looked at him.”

Allen smiled gratefully; he had no doubt that Lenalee had asked Komui to look at Tim. _Thank you._ And then, _Are you okay? Where are we?_

“I’m okay,” Lenalee promised. “Brother would never hurt me; the tranquilizer just had to wear off.” She gave that the eye-roll it deserved, and then continued, “We’re in the Science Department research room. Everyone is busy repairing the castle so they’re all gone. Hear them?”

Allen listened for a moment, and then nodded; that explained the banging and clanking he could hear, not that distant at all.

Lenalee tipped her head thoughtfully, frowning at him, and then commented, “You couldn’t call out when Komurin got you.” She was obviously worried by this; her brow was creased, and her eyes a little more intent on Allen than he would have expected.

Allen grimaced; that had gotten him in trouble more than once. Unless Cross kept a half-attentive watch on him, which hardly ever happened, he was on his own when he got in trouble.

But for Lenalee, he smoothed the grimace into a smile and gestured up at Tim. _That’s what Tim’s for. If I need someone’s attention, he’ll go and give them a tap for me._ Or a bite.

Lenalee didn’t quite look convinced, and Allen wanted to grimace again. He knew she only meant well, though – she seemed very kind.

 _What happened to the Innocence?_ he asked, quite deliberately changing the subject as he remembered.

It worked; Lenalee reached into her pocket and pulled it out, and Allen relaxed; it was still intact.

 _Thank you,_ he signed, and reached out for it.

Lenalee gave him a quick smile as she released it. “If you bring it to Hevlaska-” She signed the name, H-Innocence. “-she’ll take it.” A half-second’s pause, and then, with a warm smile, “Welcome home, Allen.”

Allen faltered, letting out a soft breath of surprise; that was the second time he’d heard that.

 _Thank you,_ he signed, half-numb.

 _Welcome home,_ he repeated to himself, distant.

* * *

A month after he came to the Order, Allen met Marie.

The man was sitting at one of the tables when Allen came to get lunch; Allen was a little early, so there weren’t many people there, but since he was wearing an exorcist uniform, Allen thought he should introduce himself.

He set his food on the table close to him, and the man’s head swiveled toward him, brow creasing slightly.

Another moment passed, and the other man smiled.

“Hello,” he greeted. His voice, Allen noted, was mellow and deep. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Marie.”

Ah! Allen had been wondering when he’d meet Marie.

One of Marie’s hands was on the table, so Allen reached over and traced five capital letters onto the back, swift but careful. _Hello._

Marie’s brow creased again, and then his eyebrows lifted in realization, and he gave Allen a nod.

“You must be Allen, then,” Marie commented, turning his hand over and shifting it a little closer to Allen in invitation. “Lenalee’s told me about you. How are you settling in?”

Allen gave Marie a pleased smile and traced, _Just fine. Everyone is very kind._

Marie chuckled quietly. “Yes, the Order has great patience when it comes to exorcists. And in recent years it hasn’t been a bad place to be at all. Most of us like seeing new faces.” The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. “Kanda’s mentioned you too, you know.”

Allen huffed. Kanda was a _huge pain;_ they’d met a couple of times since their mission together, and every one of them had ended in a fight.

Marie laughed outright this time. “He thinks the same of you, I’m sure. Daisya’s taken to asking about you just to hear him rant.”

 _Daisya has the right idea._ Allen hid a grin; at least he wasn’t the only person out to bug Kanda.

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll get a big head,” Marie told him, amused. Allen’s smile softened a little. It was nice that so many people here had people that they cared for. “Our general has his hands full already with the two of them.”

_I don’t envy him._

“Me either,” Marie agreed. Then, a little more seriously, “Komui’s told you already that he won’t assign us alone together, hasn’t he?”

Allen nodded; while either one independently could be easily managed, both of their disabilities together could mean trouble for Allen, at least, in battle. After a moment, with a sheepish smile, he added, _Yes._

“That only holds on missions,” Marie said firmly. “You can come talk to me anytime, remember.”

Allen ducked his head a little to hide a helpless smile.

These people were so _nice._

 _Alright Marie,_ he traced. _Thank you._

Marie gave him a smile. “Of course.”


End file.
